Against the Rising Sun
by k-shee
Summary: Seven days is all it takes to fall in love. Velsea.


_Summary: Seven days is all it takes to fall in love. Velsea._

_Woohoo! Yay! Another fic! We shall throw confetti around yes? There'll be seven parts so it's gonna be kinda short._

___So...I won't be updating very quickly because I just got the Sims 2 Seasons and I am SOOOO addicted! There's farming and fishing and SNOW! I made a Vaughn-sim and a Chelsea-sim and they made beautiful little babies together :D Chelsea-sim wants ten kids and I'm busting my brains on trying to fulfill that aspiration. Vaughn-sim is well on his way to being a business tycoon, haha! Right now there are five kids with yet another one on the way 8D I am **one happy grandma!**_

_But enough about me. To the fic!_

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**Against the Rising Sun**

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**1.**

The first time they meet, the sun is rising against his back, outlining his silhouette. She has one foot in wakefulness, the other in dreamland. He speaks in short, clipped tones, and she yawns in a way that suddenly makes his mouth dry and his cheeks hot. Her pajama shirt is slipping off one creamy shoulder while she uses an overly long sleeve to rub her eye.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that?"

"I…I…uh…"

"Vaughn, right? It's nice to meet you." And then she tilts her head and _smiles_ and suddenly he sees pink and flowers in the background. He flushes like a beetroot this time, touches the brim of his hat, and hightails it out of there.

Meanwhile, she watches him go with a secret little grin on her face.

**2.**

The second time they meet, he is waiting for his boat to take him back to the mainland. She stumbles upon him—literally—and laughs at herself while he covers his blush with a scowl.

"Watch where you're going." He tells her curtly, and then brings his gaze back into the sunset. She brushes the comment off like lint from her shoulder, turning her gaze to the horizon as well. He glances at her from the corner of his eye, marveling how the golden tones cast a glow on her face, softening the weariness hard labor has drawn there. She's a pretty girl, with bright eyes and a ready smile. Mirabelle tells him how hard she works all day and never ever hears her utter a complaint. The islanders obviously adore her.

They pass the time in silence, and she closes her eyes to the croon of the waves while he subtly (not really) watches her.

It starts a speck in the horizon, growing until the shape of the boat is unmistakable. She shifts her weight and hesitates, then asks him when they'll see each other next.

"When I'm needed." It's easy if he keeps his sentences short to the point. That way he won't blubber like he did yesterday morning. He picks his pack off the sand and hefts it onto his shoulder.

She looks like she is about to pout. "And when will that be?"

"I'm an animal dealer." He states simply. "I'll come when you decide to buy livestock."

A lightbulb seems to go off in her head. He likes how her face is an open book; it's a refreshing change from the jaded world around him. "I see…"

Soon enough, his boat docks and it's time for him to leave. He finds himself hesitating, but only for a moment. She is a stranger, so there is no need for any heartfelt farewells. He isn't that good at saying goodbye anyway.

And it's not like he'll miss her anyway.

"Bye, Vaughn! Have a safe trip!" She calls out from the shore and he glances back to see her waving at him. He raises his hand and gives a feeble wave, slightly flustered. He regards her a stranger, but she doesn't seem to think so.

The wind whipping her cheeks, she manages to catch the shy grin on his face even from the distance.

**3.**

A full season passes and he remembers to forget her. Almost. Not quite. (Not at all)

So when his boss tells him to get his butt over at Sunny Island, all of his attempts are shot down the drain. It's not altogether unpleasant, remembering the short few hours in her quiet company. The memory of her serene sun-kissed face makes him nostalgic and wistful for some reason. It's quite difficult to fight the attraction. She makes him nervous and twittery in the wrong kind of nice. It's conflicting and irrational and illogical and…and…

And he _likes _it.

The sun is hot when he arrives at Sunny Island. Figures. His head is pounding with the remnants of seasickness and the heat does not help at all. The calves he has brought with him share the same sentiment, whining and nudging his hand. It takes him a while to get them settled into Mirabelle's little barn and by the time he finishes he just wants to lie down with a pack of ice pressed against his temple. He does just that after shedding his vest, neckerchief and hat, and then slipping into a pair of comfortable slippers. He loves his boots and all, but there are days when it's too hot for them.

The bell above the door rings and he groans to himself. Entertaining customers isn't what he needs right now.

Luckily, it's not a customer but Julia, if the cheery "Oh, Vaughn! Goody, you're here!" is anything to go by. He grunts in response to her tackle-hug, never once opening his eyes.

"Get off, Jules," He growls, "My head's gonna split."

"Aww…poor Vaughniekins." She laughs. "Don't be rude. We have a guest."

He opens his eyes and catches a flicker of red. Brown, then blue. Chelsea's bandanna, Chelsea's hair, Chelsea's eyes. He feels a sudden wave of heat coming over him, mixed in with embarrassment and uncertainty.

"Hello, stranger." She greets him, adding in that tilt of the head and _the_ _smile_.

"…Hello." He echoes, moving the ice pack to the back of his neck. Goddess, why did it have to be so hot?

Julia watches Vaughn and Chelsea interact, suddenly feeling like an intruder. She leaves with an excuse to 'see what Mom is up to'. Neither her cousin nor the rancher look like they care particularly much.

"I wondered, if you would come back if I asked you to," Chelsea suddenly confesses, "And I thought to myself, well, if you work hard and get yourself a barn, you're bound to bump into him again. Julia says you're always busy with work, so I thought not to bother you."

It's disturbing, how she can always uproot him and send his psyche shaking. Is she saying what he thinks she's saying? Was the attraction mutual for her as well? He supposes that he is handsome, from an objective point of view; he's tall and adequately muscled, attractive in that rugged kind of way, but also aloof and socially awkward—snarky!—as his coworkers would say. Perhaps it is the mystery she seeks. He is an enigma to her, someone to break apart and analyze. Or maybe it's simply the 'bad boy' persona she's after. His coworkers told him that chicks dig 'em (then snorted as he imagined baby chicks digging for grub). It's hard to tell. There's an off chance that she simply enjoys his company, but what were the odds of that? Even he wouldn't date himself.

"Vaughn?"

"Hm?"

"You're staring."

The blood rushes to his face so quickly he can hear his heartbeat in his ears. "S-Sorry…" His fingers instinctively reach for his hat only to find empty air. She giggles and leans her cheek on her hand, eyes darting to the black Stetson hanging on the coat rack.

"It's quite alright," She waves it off with a grin, "As long as I get to stare back too."

For the third time that day, Vaughn finds himself flushing as hard as he can without bursting a vein, but this time, it's a pleased kind of blush. He meets her eyes and lets himself lose to the blueness of her gaze, not realizing the corners of his lips gently lifting in response to her smile.

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_Isn't Vaughn just adorable? :D He's like a cookie, tough on the outside but warm and chewy on the inside._


End file.
